I watched him for a moment longer than I should have, enjoying the way his fingers wrapped around the cup, the faint crease of concentration in his brow. He's impossible, really. So unbearably precise, so tightly wound, yet here he is… just existing, quietly, without realizing how much he pulls at attention.
I stretched and let my hands trail along the counter, pretending to examine the collection of teacups like a critic on some imaginary show. "You know," I said, voice casual, "if anyone else walked in right now, they'd probably think this is some sort of… meditation ritual. You, sitting there with your perfect tea, all broody and intense."
He didn't respond immediately. I could see his lips tighten, just barely, but his gaze flicked to me. That's enough—just enough to let me know I've gotten under his skin, the way I always manage to do.
I sauntered closer, hands tucked in my pockets, leaning lightly against the edge of the table. "You've got this whole 'cold, untouchable overlord' thing going on, but… admit it. You enjoy the company."
"…I don't enjoy anything," he said, clipped. But his eyes betrayed him—just a flicker, a shadow of acknowledgment.
I smirked. Victory. Small, but mine.
I leaned closer still, lowering my voice. "Remember back in school when you thought you could hide from me in the library? You were so sure no one would find you… yet there I was, peeking around shelves, grinning at your little scowl."
He froze slightly, just enough for me to see that memory hit him. I pressed the advantage. "You always acted like you hated me poking at your notes, but I knew… you kind of liked it. Admit it."
His jaw clenched, a muscle in his neck twitching. He doesn't say yes, doesn't even look directly at me, but I see it—slight. Subtle. Enough to make me grin wider.
I moved past him, pretending to inspect the window, brushing a hand along the sill. "And remember when you were sick that one week? You didn't want anyone near you. But I brought tea anyway… and left it by your side. You never said thank you, but you drank it, didn't you?"
He shifted in his seat, stiff, almost defensive. "That was… unnecessary," he muttered, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
I chuckled softly, leaning on the sill, arms crossed, just close enough that the warmth from the sunken glow of the lamp hit me—and him. "Unnecessary? Maybe. But that's what I do. I make life… less unbearable. Even for you."
A faint twitch at his lips—so small, I could have missed it if I weren't staring. "You've grown… bold," he said, voice low, almost warning, almost… curious.
I tilted my head, grin spreading. "Bold? Maybe. Or maybe I just remember what works on you."
His eyes flicked toward me, sharp, calculating, but I saw it—the faintest blush warming his cheeks, just a shade, just enough. And I thought: finally, a crack in the ice. Finally, a spark.
I walked past him, brushing a hand along the chair as I settled on the armrest opposite him. "It's nice, you know… seeing you like this. Not all… perfection and cold walls. Just… human."
He swallowed, stiff. He doesn't answer. But his fingers curl slightly around his cup, betraying a flicker of comfort. And I grin to myself. Victory again—small, subtle, but delicious.
I lean forward, teasing, voice dropping. "You know, you could smile. Just a little. You'd look… less like a statue and more… approachable."
He shoots me a glare, sharp enough to cut, but the faint twitch of amusement in his eyes betrays him. "I don't… approach anyone," he says, clipped.
"Sure," I tease, leaning back, swinging my legs. "But I'm not just anyone. You know that."
For a moment, silence fills the room, warm, heavy, playful. I can see the faint tension leaving him, little by little, replaced by something quieter, gentler. Not trust. Not affection. Not yet. But a space where maybe—just maybe—he can let me in.
And that's enough. For now.
I grin, leaning my chin on my hand, watching him, letting the sparks of quiet mischief dance in the air between us.
Because that's the fun part: the teasing, the poking, the slow, slow unraveling. Watching him react without him even realizing it. And maybe… just maybe, letting him remember that someone notices.